The Case of the Late Pig

'No,' I said truthfully. 'No, I didn't. But this makes all the difference. Water has a peculiar property, hasn't it?'

He put his head on one side.

'How d'you mean?'

'Well, it washes things,' I said, and I went off to find Whippet.

CHAPTER 12. THE DISTURBING ELEMENT

I had almost reached the car when I remembered something which had slipped my mind in the excitement of the moment. I hurried back and sought out Pussey.

'Don't you worry, sir. We've put a man on him,' he said reassuringly in reply to my question.

I still hesitated. 'Hayhoe is slippery,' I ventured, 'and also it's most important that he's not alarmed.'

Pussey was not offended, but he seemed to think that I was a little fussy.

'Young Birkin'll follow him and he won't know it no more than if he was being trailed by a ferret,' he said. 'You can set your mind at rest.'

All this was very comforting, and I was going off again when Leo buttonholed me. He was still dubious about the necessity of an autopsy, and in the end I had to go back and take another look at Pig's pathetic body. There were one or two interesting signs when we looked for them, and in the end I left him convinced.

By this time it was comparatively late, and I arrived at 'The Feathers' just before two o'clock. The landlady, a typical East Anglian, gaunt of body and reticent of speech, was not helpful. It took me some time to get it into her head that it was Whippet I wanted to see.

'Oh,' she said at last, 'a fair young gentleman, soft-spoken like, almost a natural, as you might say. Well, he's not here.'

'But he slept here last night,' I persisted.

'Yes, yes, so he did, and that's the truth now,' she agreed, 'but he's not here now.'

'Is he coming back?'

'I couldn't say.'

It occurred to me that Whippet must have told her to keep quiet, and this was extremely unlike him. My interest in him grew.

There was no sign of Miss Rowlandson, either. She, too, appeared to have gone out. But whether they went together or separately the landlady was not prepared to tell me.

In the end I had to go back to Highwaters unsatisfied. I was late for lunch, of course, and Pepper served me alone in the dining-room, sorrow and disappointment apparent in every line of his sleek body.

What with one thing and another I was falling headlong in his estimation.

When the meal was over he turned to me.

'Miss Janet is in the rose garden, sir,' he said, conveying clearly that, murder or no murder, he thought a guest owed a certain deference to his hostess.

I took the rebuke meekly and went out to make amends. It was one of those vivid summer days which are hot without being uncomfortable. The garden was ablaze with flowers and the air serene and peaceful.

As I walked down the grass path between the lavender hedges I heard the sound of voices, and something familiar about one of them caught my attention. Two deck-chairs were placed side by side on the rose lawn with their backs to me, and I heard Janet laugh.

At the sound of my approach her companion rose, and as I saw his head and shoulders appearing over the back of the chair I experienced an odd sensation which was half relief and half an unwarrantable exasperation. It was Whippet himself. Very cool and comfortable he looked, too, in his neat white flannels. His opening words were not endearing.

'Campion! Found you at last,' he said. 'Er — good. I've been searching for you, my dear fellow, searching all over the place. Here and there.'

He moved a languid hand about a foot in either direction.

'I've been busy,' I said gracelessly. 'Hello, Janet.'

She smiled up at me. 'This is a nice friend of yours,' she said with slightly unnecessary accent on the first word. 'Do sit down.'

'That's right, do,' Whippet agreed. 'There's a chair over there,' he added, pointing to a pile on the other end of the lawn.

I fetched it, opened it, and sat down opposite them. Whippet watched me put it up with interest.

'Complicated things,' he observed.

I waited for him to go on, but he seemed quite content to lie basking in the sun, with Janet, looking very lovely in white furbelows at his side.

I began boldly. 'It's been found, you know — in the river.'

He nodded. 'So I heard in the village. The whole place is terribly shaken by the tragedy, don't you think? Extraordinary restless spirit pervades the place — have you noticed it?'

He was infuriating, and again I experienced that desire to cuff him which I had felt so strongly on our first adult meeting.

'You've got rather a lot to explain yourself,' I said, wishing that Janet would go away.

To my surprise he answered me intelligently.

'I know,' he said. 'I know. That's why I've been looking for you. There's Miss Rowlandson, for one thing. She's terribly upset. She's gone down to the Vicarage now. I didn't know what to advise.'

'The Vicarage?' I echoed. 'What on earth for?' Janet, I noticed, was sitting up with interest.